A Predicament
by The Dark Knight's Revenge
Summary: Elizabeth is attacked by dreadfuls and injured on her way to Netherfield to see Mr. Darcy. Coupled with their increased intimacy since their secret engagement, Mr. Darcy is on emotional overdrive. When him and Elizabeth make a foolish mistake together, what will become of their impending nuptials? And what of Wickham and the zombies? Lemons and pregnancy


Elizabeth walked through the countryside, following the now familiar path from Longbourne to Netherfield. Up above, the clouds roiled, signalling rain. Inwardly, she was pleased with the development in the weather. It meant that she would likely have to stay the night, or perhaps the weekend at Netherfield with Charles and Jane Bingley, and more importantly, one Colonel Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Since their secret engagement at Rosings, they had been spending every moment possible together. Their relationship remained private to all others, except for Charles and Jane, who suspected that they were involved. Only the weekend before, Charles had nearly caught them kissing fervently in the library and bid them adieu with a sparkle in his eye. She was sure that he has shared his suspicions with Jane, who had yet to breach the matter with her as of yet.

In spite of herself, Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow hot at the thought of Darcy's lips upon hers. Their concessions alone with each other were growing in length and passion. She in all honesty didn't know if their passions could be stayed until their wedding. They'd yet to pick a date.

She'd felt Mr. Darcy become hard the last time they'd been alone, in the servants' stairwell behind the drawing room. He'd kept his distance once his most English parts had become excited, but she'd been able to glimpse the prominent bulge in his breeches as well as press up against it for a moment. The thought of encountering that sort of reaction from her Fitzwilliam was quite invigorating.

She'd already imagined the scenario a dozen times, but that didn't stop her from fantasizing further. Sometimes she pictured him taking her in the garden, behind the hedges, or sometimes in the library against one of the shelves. Her most lurid fantasy yet had been imagining them tumbling in the gazebo at Pemberley.

It always started the same. She'd be sitting demurely in the garden or library and he'd come up behind her with a swift hand to hand attack that she'd block and send back to him. She always won, but let him pin her against the nearest convenient surface anyways. He'd kiss her fervently, in that deep and passionate manner he always did, and then he'd turn his attention southwards.

The farthest he'd dared go so far in their dalliances was gently cupping the side of her breast whilst they were kissing. He'd yet to put his lips or teeth any lower than her collarbone, always being careful not to leave any marks.

In her fantasies he always left marks. Many, many love bites to mark up her alabaster skin. And she'd leave hers on his skin as well.

She'd pictured Mr. Darcy naked several difference ways. She imagined that he was not an overly hairy man, in fact she hoped that he practiced good grooming. She'd read about men who looked like beasts with the hair covering them and it didn't particularly appeal to her.

When it came to his most English bits, she imagine him to be of a decent length. She'd tried to render what she felt that day in the servant's hallway into a three-dimensional vision in her mind, but it didn't quite make it all the way to proper imagining. She hoped he was decent sized, not too much so that he didn't fit anywhere he wasn't supposed to, and reasonably kept down there as well.

A groan from her left startled Elizabeth out of her preoccupied state. She turned her head to see two dreadfuls stumbling out of the heather, one of which was missing both arms. She grit her teeth and hitched her skirt, pulling a miniature bolt bow from her garter and drawing her katana with the other.

It began to rain gently as she met the first dreadful with gusto, slicing it to pieces before it could even pick up speed, and by the time she got through with the second, it was pouring. Thunder rolled overhead.

Leaving the two corpses in the mud, Elizabeth picked up her pace in order to reach Netherfield as swiftly as possible. The sky boomed overhead, renewing its torrential downpour. She was soaked through in moments, the thin fabric of her dress doing nothing to keep out the chill. Elizabeth divested herself of her brace of pistols, deeming them useless in the weather. She'd reach her destination sooner without them.

She was nearly to the gates of Netherfield when several more zombies sprung out of the earth at her feet, clawing at her boots and causing her to fall hard. Her head hit a rock, and blood immediately began to run down into her eyes. Elizabeth mopped her face and let out several choice swearwords before quickly dispatching the horde.

Three more encounters with zombies later, she was splattered with gore and completely soaked through. By the time she stumbled within the bounds of Netherfield, she was exhausted, hot, and dizzy, both from running and blood loss. She was also well over two hours late. No doubt Jane and Mr. Darcy were terribly worried.

She stumbled up the front steps and rang the bell, her head pounding. The servant opened the door.

"Miss Elizabeth, we've been expecting you." He said, taking in her disheveled and bloody appearance. "Good lord, are you quite all right?" Running footsteps sounded in the foyer and Mr. Darcy came into view, closely followed by Jane and Mr. Bingley. Darcy's face was a mask of worry.

"Yes, quite." Elizabeth replied. She managed to meet Mr. Darcy's eyes and offer him a small smile before passing out cold on the doorstep.


End file.
